the indigenous people regard trees as sacred there are enormous ancient specimens of immense strength overwhelming majesty everywhere.
We cut across through very high and dense bamboo forests and encountered some mango trees, which were of enormous size and in whose crowns the monkeys were shrieking and romping around dangerously. In one of the main holy places in Shiva’s honor we once again refilled our food supplies and again saw dozens of caves, many of which were adorned by an erect black cobra carved from stone, a mark of Shiva. We criss-crossed on some difficult paths deeper and deeper into the jungle and finally found the place we were looking for.
An Indian Baba looked after this place in the middle of the jungle. It consisted of twenty to thirty small and large caves spread along the mountain ridge. Some of the places and caves were accessible only by a rope ladder. This place was dedicated only for meditation and was surrounded by deep silence. The cave of the baba was at the foot of a ravine and was in that way centrally located as a kind of a reception. An enormous palisade made of tree trunks surrounded his cave and protected it from leopards, tigers and other wild cats, for which this jungle was a habitat. At a first glance the Shiva Baba was completely neurotic and crazy. His eyes were somewhat brightened and totally veiled by the incessant smoking of marijuana. He was very friendly and made sure that we did not get disturbed during our retreat in this secluded area. He presented us with some tea as a welcome present.
We chose the last big cave, which reached deep into the mountain at the very end of a steep ravine and set up our camp place. All the items of everyday life had to be carried up through scattered boulders and paths carved in the stone. Every day we carried water with great effort up the hill in buckets after climbing down thirty minutes to a fabulously beautiful river. The same for fire wood. We had to keep the flames going throughout the entire night, because wild animals were swarming the place all around us. This included some really big wild cats, one of which had attacked a local and had injured him badly just a few days previously. We hung our food supplies on ropes from the rock ceiling. In spite of this the rodents of the night were trying to catch their share by jumping up high like acrobats.
We slept directly next to the fire at the entrance to the cave. Veiled in twilight at the very back of our accommodation there stood a man-size black cobra hewn from the rock. The Gond-Babas, gracefully moving around the forest carrying their axes and the machetes, would visit our cave every few days and put flower malas around the snake and perform Puja. They hardly took notice of our presence there and simply went about their business.
We would alternate watching the fire during the night and in the early morning hours our meditation would begin. Everything was done in silence, without speaking. All of this was an unprecedented challenge for the body and the mind. In the beginning we would meditate in the morning in the cave or on the platform in front of the cave overlooking the green valley that stretched before us. Every day after lunch we would descend, take a bath in the river and sit on the river-bank in meditation until evening. We did nothing else but observe everything that was happening inside the body just allowing it to come and go. After a few days I heard the voice of the river echo in my ears as a melodious symphony. It felt like a hug. I would sit for hours without the slightest movement and slowly an immense sadness, stirred by the song of the river, arose in the depths of my heart. What was I doing here?
As always I was sitting directly by the water when I suddenly became aware of death, my own and that of others. I was overcome by the memory of the death of my father, in all its horror and its repercussions, which I had experienced as a five-year-old child
Absolutely nothing had changed. The principles (laws) of the world were still the same as before. I could not escape them, not even through ceaseless meditation. I wept incessantly. My companion was slowly becoming uneasy, in spite of all his years of meditation practice, as my grief would not end. Just as before, when I was overeating and throwing up, I was now addicted to endless meditation in order to somehow master my existence, in order not to have to feel this basic knowledge of death. Other people could anaesthetize this unconscious notion with career, money, women, men, by having retirement insurance and fire insurance, and other kind of insurances. I didn’t have to have these illusions.
I had never referred to the Eastern spiritual paths as such, because I never knew exactly what spirituality is or what a path is, and because I had never cared to think about these things, but obviously they also had no real solution at hand. Some dissatisfaction and unrest, some pleading prayers, and an endless battle always remained. Why should I still stay here?
The following day we spontaneously terminated our meditation retreat. I had already decided to return to Germany as fast as possible. Halfway back to civilization we again stopped at the bank of a river, which flowed into the Narmada River somewhere down the mountain in the valley. This was our last day in the mountains. We would have to go through enormous effort to reach this magical secluded spot, radiating fairytale-like beauty and stillness, once again. The river was still very narrow at this spot, high up in the mountains, and we had to circumvent big boulders eroded to roundness. The water flowed in absolute silence and serenity through the jungle. The night descended. The full moon slowly rose up in the sky, reflected in the water. Bit by bit the reflection of the moon approached the shore where I was sitting. My body was totally exhausted from the exertion of the hike. Upon arrival I had just let myself fall onto the rock and lay motionless for a long time. I was finished.
Now I was sitting next to the fire, my companion had already gone to sleep. The moon was shining huge and bright and seemed to express more truth then my entire ruminating. My whole dilemma had revealed itself again just a few hours earlier when we visited a place that didn’t seem of this world. It was alongside a lake, which lay in front of a huge cliff wall. Below the cliff there was an old village of the Gond-Baba, who had built their houses right in front of the Stone Age caves. Right at the waterline there was a huge fire. Dusk was falling, and the people gathered around the fire. We were climbing down into the ravine along a narrow path hewn into the cliff where Shiva had visibly manifested himself in the rock. Yogis and ascetics were sitting in the cliff niches on narrow projections. Laughing, they called out words to us, made jokes and gave us incense, ash and Prasad. The path took us deeper into the canyon. At the end of our path a space opened up, completely adorned with flowers, incense and candles. In front of Shiva and Parvati were standing, united in a dance, shrouded in the deep blue atmosphere of a natural cave. Everything seemed to be alive and vibrating. I sat down in the midst of the evident devotion and reverence of this place and the dance of consciousness and energy.
How did consciousness and energy fit together? How could I embrace this world and be happy at the same time? Why were there always two? How could one ever accept the death of the beloved?
I received no answer despite this incredible fullness and the breath-taking otherworldly atmosphere. In my opinion the ancient peoples of this earth had also not found any useful solutions.
The slowly gliding river in front of me didn’t seem to move. I again looked at the full round disc of the moon reflected in the water at my feet and simultaneously at the sky. Who was reflecting whom?
I didn’t want to be an ascetic, hostile to the body. I didn’t want to have to chasten myself, just to find the truth, only to somehow be able to endure all of this. The lunar disc came closer and closer and seemed to laugh as the water rippled in waves on the shore. Fucking questions! I smiled back at the moon and lay down to sleep, totally exhausted.
The next morning we packed our few belongings together for the last time. I forgot and left my little bells, which I had always worn on my feet in the jungle because of the snakes, between the rocks. A very peculiar man had invited us to a breakfast. He lived near the river, and I was very much looking forward to it. Already from a distance we could see him in front of his house. He had his feet up, was sitting on his veranda dressed in a military combat uniform and greeted us politely. My meditation companion had told me earlier that we were about to meet a tantric guru, and
